The Last and Lost Testaments of Albus Dumbledore
by artemissan09
Summary: WARNING: CONTAINS SPOILERS! Just what did Albus do while pacing in his office? He was writing letter to no one in particular about his life. After the events of HBP, A certain very special someone stumbles upon these letters. And this person sees the life
1. Chapter 1

The Last and Lost Testaments of one Albus Dumbledore

**A/N: I know in canon, Albus is quite a bit older than Minerva, but in this one, the age difference is only about fifteen years. All names are assumed, and don't apply to canon. This story contains spoilers, so be warned!**

**Disclaimers: Yeah, Jo owns everything except** **for the silly names and plot. Those are mine.**

**Note: Starts out as a letter, and then there comes the flashback.**

_To the brave and adventurous soul who dares to pick up these lost and last testaments of one Albus Dumbledore,_

_She was quiet, reclusive, and yet alluring all at the same time. There was something so logical bordering on the lines of compulsive that just drew me in like butter to toast. That's exactly what I was...butter on warm toast. I held my form for as long as I could, and when I couldn't stand it any longer, I just melted away and found myself absorbed into the very essence of her...or so it seemed to me..._

_I could not figure out to what it was that I was so attracted. I felt so many emotions all at once, but I never quite put my finger on what those emotions were. Was that what intrigued me? Being in a state in which I didn't comprehend? Not being able to identify just what I was feeling? But I loved every minute I had these feelings, and loathed myself for them at the same time._

_It seemed that I had become just the opposite of everything that was and is her. She thought, I felt. Every fiber of my being was dedicated to making decisions that were solely based on what my soul felt. She was my mind when my heart got in the way._

_You may be wondering, just whoever you are, how in Merlin's silver beard an old codger such as myself stumbled across the likes of a maiden as fair as she. I must inform you that it was nothing short of a miracle, and yet I firmly believe that it was fate that allowed our paths to cross; and in more than one spot, mind you._

**flashback**

I scan the shelves for those tart little candies that I have become so partial to. 'Dash it all, that's what I get for looking in a wizard candy shop,' I think to myself as I shake my head in disappointment. As I back up to get a grander look on the shelves, I hear a faint yelp from behind me, followed by a juvenile female voice.

"Pardon me, sir, but it would seem that you have stepped upon my feet." Her voice was cordial and rang with a distinct innocent angelic tone that could only belong to a child.

That sound brings a slight smile to my face. "So it would seem," I say, turning to face the young girl.

She must've caught a glimpse of something in my ever twinkling eyes, because the next words she spoke were full of awe. "Did you know, your eyes are the bluest I think I've ever seen. They really are beautiful, so you should take good care of them."

I find myself shocked and pleasantly surprised at the caring and mature tone a small child like her possessed. But I can't help but chuckle at her word choice.

"Excuse me, sir, but why are you laughing? I don't believe I said anything to humor you." I see her eyes well up at the thought of being laughed at. She really is one of the most bold and brave little children I have ever met.

"No, my dear. I wasn't laughing at you. I was merely tickled and flattered that a young lady thought my eyes were attractive." I smile as big as I can to make sure that she believes me. "May I ask, little one, just what your name is?"

She folds her hands together and swishes slightly from side to side. "My mother told me not to tell strangers my name, sir."

"And quite an intelligent woman your mother must be," I say as I reach offer my hand for her to shake. "My name is Albus, Albus Dumbledore." She takes my hand and gives quite the firm handshake.

"I suppose now we are not such strangers," she says. "Well, my name is Minerva Gail McGonagall, and it is quite a pleasure to meet you, sir."

I can't help but to laugh. "Minerva, if you know my name, then why do you continue to call me sir?"

"Well, my mother also said that if you are a formal acquaintance, then you should use formal titles." She is also one of the most polite and brilliant children I have ever had the pleasure to meet.

My face adopts a rather serious look. "Well then, Miss McGonagall, I must argue that the pleasure is all mine, and thank you for being such a polite young lady. It is not often you hear such grace and maturity from someone of your size, or any age, for that matter."

She curtsies. "Thank you, Mister Dumbledore."

We both hear an older woman's voice from a few aisles over. "Minerva? Minerva Gail, if I can't find you by the count of ten, I'm going to leave you in this store!" Her voice sounds worried and playful at the same time.

'_She must be a pleasant woman_,' I think. "Well, Miss McGonagall, I do believe that someone is searching for you."

She grins mischievously. "Yes, but I always make them find me. It's so much more fun then just following their voices like a mindless drone."

'_A true Gryffindor in every aspect_.' Is the first thing that wanders into my mind when I hear this statement.

Her mother rounds the corner of our aisle, closely tailed by a man who I assume is her father, for his arms are full of today's purchases. When she spots her daughter, she puts both her hands on her hips and taps her high heeled shoe in quite an unnerving manner. It really is a rather interesting display. And Minerva is just the exact replica of her mother.

A soft, pale face, emerald green eyes, long legs, and I am almost certain that she will adopt her curves later on. But she has her father's hair color. Raven, and just a tint of red when the light catches it. It is currently tied back in a long braid that reaches mid-torso.

"There you are! Your father and I have searched this shop from ceiling to floor, and we just…" she stops for a reason I don't comprehend.

There is a throat clearing sound from behind Minerva's mother that comes from her father. "Who's your friend, dear?"

Minerva smiles broadly. "This is Mr.-…"

She is cut off by her mother, who has apparently relocated her voice. "Albus Dumbledore. It is an honor to meet you, sir."

I give an animated sigh. "Enough with the sir, I must say that it makes me feel older than I already am." I smile to assure them that it is a jest.

This gets a hearty chuckle from her father who gives quite the effort to offer his hand. His try, however, is in vain. Those packages weigh him down. "My name is Christopher McGonagall, owner and head manager of the Cosmic Cauldron factory."

"Nice to meet you, Christopher. And is it safe to assume that this lovely lady is your wife?"

I ask as she offers her hand that I chivalrously take and place a tender kiss upon her knuckles. Minerva scowls at the lack of attention she is receiving.

"Yes, I am Elena McGonagall, and I am also running late for an interview at Ollivander's." She gestures Minerva to come to her side, which she obliges.

I nod in approval. "It really was nice to make your acquaintance." I bend down to take Minerva's hand just as I had done to her mother. "And I hope to see you again soon. Possibly under the sorting hat in Hogwarts?" I ask and shortly after I place a kiss on her small hand as well.

She turns a faint shade of red. "Perhaps sooner than you think. I start next term."

I rise, gangly limbs and all. "Well then, I do believe I will see you on the first of September."

She curtsies once more and replies, "I am looking forward to it. I'm sure September will seem like an eternity away."

Her mother places a hand on her shoulder and urges her toward the exit side of the shop. "Sorry to be so abrupt, but I really am more than fashionably late," she says as her and Minerva take their leave.

As her father tags behind, he somehow manages to pull a business card from his pocket. "Just floo if the school ever needs some cauldrons."

"I'm sure I will. Thank you very much, and have a nice day, Christopher."

He nods and turns to leave. I shake my head as I go back to search for those sherbert lemons that I know won't be there.

**A/N: I know that this may be a tad bit confusing right now, but it will unfold in future chapters. Reviews are always welcome, and critiques are just as helpful!!!**

**All my best wishes,**

**Artemis-san**


	2. Second Letter

**The Last and Lost Testaments of one Albus Dumbledore**

Faithful reader(s) who still go on even after being dared once before,

Yes, it would seem that fate played a minor card in our hands in the beginning, but later on it would be the royal flush that brought us together.

I don't know exactly when it was that I began to realize that this young girl was something truly astounding. I, Albus Dumbledore, am not too proud to admit that I was blinded by everything I saw in her, and am not so ashamed to say that she was quite the mystery. To me, she started out as a puzzle piece that I had no idea where to place. Her jagged edges and winding curves left me dumbfounded as to where she belonged in the great jigsaw of life that surrounded me.

So I left her where she lay until I could put some of my other pieces together...And it was almost as if she fell into her place...

**FLASHBACK**

"GRYFFINDOR!" The booming voice of the raggedy sorting hat rang out over the great hall.

I couldn't help but smile at her as she looked to the head table; searching for some sort of approval from the staff. I wasn't the least bit surprised. After all, I had met the girl not two months before, and had a gut feeling that she radiated the knowledge and roared with the pride only a true Gryffindor could possess.

After the applause had settled and Minerva had taken her first seat as a member of the Gryffindor house, another young lady sat upon that stool trembling with terror as to what this silly hat was going to say to her.

"Good evening, Miss Poppy. I have been waiting for you for quite some time. Your parents should be proud; I see you have a great mind and a yearning for knowledge. Ravenclaw would suit you well...But you also have a thirst to help others along life's weary path." The voice of the sorting taunted her mind as she sat, on the verge of tears with excitement, nervousness, and fright.

It seemed to her that eternity and an hour had passed before the sorting hat put her in her house. "HUFFLEPUFF!" Poppy immediately relaxed and headed for her house table to join the rest of her badger brethren.

Poppy Pomfrey is a tidy witch, no doubt a tad overly hygenic, but her mother was a mediwitch, and her father had been a dentist in muggle London. Her long blonde hair is tied back into a wavy ponytail, and her face is clean; a well kept one with no need for heavy cosmetics. Her robes, starched, pressed, and wrinkle free, billow ever so slightly as she finds a seat near another first year Hufflepuff.

The sorting continues through letter "R" and another name is called. "Pomona Sprout!"

A short, stalky witch makes her way up to the stool; walking toward her fate. She struggles to obtain a seat upon the stool, and requires help from the scroll-reader. A few moments later, Pomona sighs heavily as the hat takes its place upon her head. "Ah, Miss Pomona, I'm glad to see that the dirt is absent from your hair, just wish I could say the same for those fingernails of yours..." Pomona grinned.

"I am quite the garden gnome you see," she thought so only the sorting hat itself could hear.

It took the hat virtually no time to sort Pomona. And it was not a moment later that there was another addition to the Hufflepuff table.

And what seemed like a second afterwards, the doors to the great hall burst open to reveal the groundskeeper with a second year witch by the ear. "Ouch! Bugger off, will you? I was only trying to get my broom!" The witch with short, spiky hair and hawk-like yellow eyes somehow managed to wriggle free of the groundskeeper.

"And stay out of my office, for the last time!" The great hall was quieter than a monastery full of monks after taking their vows of silence.

"Mr. Codswell," the groundskeeper looked up, startled, when he heard the voice of the Headmaster, Armando Dippet. "is there a problem?"

"Aye, you're bloody right there's a problem, headmaster! This little wench was snoopin' 'round..." The rave of Mr. Codswell was cut quite short.

"I do insist, Hubey, that you pay closer attention to your surroundings and your mouth. One deflects uninvited feet this way." The headmaster was strict, but a wave of suppressed giggles and tickled gestures washed over the staff table. "Ms. Hooch. Your seat, please? I would hate to have these students' evenings ruined due to your incapacity to follow the rules."

Rolanda Hooch, her face as red as the Gryffindor drapes, made her weary way to the Ravenclaw table where she was greeted with several high-fives from her friends.

The rest of the sorting went by slower than molasses in the middle of December. And by the end of it all, loud rumbles could be heard throughout the great hall. The cause?

Hunger.

Headmaster Dippet stood and gave the signal for the feast to begin, and the students eyes grew enormous when they saw the food magically appear in front of them. Minerva was quite sure she had never seen so much food in all her life. "Do we always eat like this?" she asked the third year seated next to her.

With a mouthful of potatoes, the boy replied, "Of course we do," he took a moment to swallow, much to MinervaÕs relief. Bad manners were frowned upon severely in her family. "how else do you think the school would expect us to get strong so we can play quidditch??? I mean, Hogwarts turns in the most professional players on the rosters of big teams throughout the globe."

Minerva smiled, yes, she knew the game of quidditch rather well. It was the one thing she enjoyed that her mother did not approve of. It would seem that anything short of chess in a skirt would not suit the tastes of Elena. "Why on earth would anyone want to ride around on a broom and dodge big metal balls for fun?" Mrs. McGonagall always argued with her father when he and Minerva would leave to watch international matches around the world. The McGonagall family was a wealthy one, and had many opportunities to travel, but Minerva was taught to always remain humble and ladylike even as a small child.

It wasn't long before the first years felt right at home with their Hogwarts family. Plates were empty, and looks of satisfaction were worn by the students after the meal was finished.

I am thrown from my observations as Armando reaches over and places a hand on my shoulder. "Well, deputy, it looks like we've got another interesting year ahead of us."

I chuckle and sip my pumpkin juice. "So it would seem, Armando...So it would seem." I place my goblet on the table and look to the Gryffindor table. Ms. McGonagall looks to be in a conversation with an older student already. I am rather excited to see what our first years are like; ready to tell which students are the brains, the beauties, and the brawns.

I glance around the great hall and notice that Ms. Hooch and Ms. Sprout get up at the same time to excuse themselves to the girls lavatory. Seated back to back, they try to stand, and wind up on top of one another on the floor. I could've guessed what was going to happen next.

"Gerroff will ya'? It's bad enough I've already been dragged around by that pig Codswell...I don't need a giant oaf sittin' on me as well." Rolanda has always had a sharp tongue, but Pomona doesn't seem too happy to be called an oaf on her first evening at school.

She climbs off of Rolanda and allows her to stand before she takes a great swing at her head. She lands a good punch to Rolanda's nose, which surprises us all, even Ms. Hooch, who is holding her nose with her hands.

When she removes them from her face, all it takes is one glance at her blood covered hands to set her off. "YOU'VE GONE AND BLOODIED MY NOSE!" The next my eyes come to see, Rolanda and Pomona are wrestling on the ground; feet and limbs flying every which way.

Minerva, who looks up when she hears the Ravenclaw scream in anger, rushes over to the two and starts vigorously tugging at Rolanda to try and get her off Pomona. Even though it is her first night of her first year, Ms. McGonagall seems not to be the one for timidity and shyness. Ms. Pomfrey too joins in the scramble and grabs hold of Ms. Sprout.

When Minerva gets hit by a badly aimed punch, she stops trying to pull them apart and instead joins the tangled mess. This catches me by complete surprise, and I find myself rather disappointed in her actions. Poppy stands up and starts yelling. "Now look! You're just as bad as the other...OOF!" She has had her legs removed out from under her and seems to have landed on her posterior end.

"SILENCE!" Armando's voice is heard above the roar of the great hall. He is standing, fists in balls at his side, his face red with fury.

Once everyone has quieted down and the heap of girls quit with their tussling, Armando continues. "It would seem that your first night here has brought out the worst in all of you," he stops and lets the words sink into the students. "and I am highly disappointed. You are all dismissed and your head boy and girl will escort you to your dormitories. Do not make any detours on your way there, and I want complete and utter silence from all of you." The students get up to leave, even our little mischief makers. "NO. You four will stay in here until I decide what your punishment shall be."

Minerva's stomach hits the floor. 'Great, Minerva, just great. Your first night here and you've gone and gotten into trouble already!"

Armando sits and I take the opportunity to whisper in his ear. "Perhaps these four can join me on Monday evening for detention, yes? I am going to need help cleaning off my bookshelves. They seem to have accumulated a great amount of dust over summer break."

"Very well," he says aloud. "You four are to help Professor Dumbledore at seven o'clock on Monday evening for your detentions. And I don't want to hear a word of protest from any of you. What you all did was a disgrace to your heads of houses, this school, me, and worst of all, yourselves. Ms. Hooch, I would think that you would know better, seeing as how I gave you a warning already this evening," he pauses and throws his dinner napkin onto his plate. "and as for the rest of you, well...What a way to start off your days here at Hogwarts. First impressions are lasting impressions. Keep that in mind."

The four of them hang their heads, and not even Rolanda has anything to say. "You may go now, but you have proven to us that you shall need an escort. Your heads of houses will walk you to your common rooms. That is all."

I stand up from my chair, as do the head of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. The rest of the staff remains in the great hall to discuss what they are going to be teaching on their first day.

Ms. McGonagall waits for me to join before we make our way to the Gryffindor common room. Her head hangs low and her eyes are fixed upon the tiles all along the corridor. I glance over and place my hand underneath her chin in a gentle but firm way.

"Head up, Ms. McGonagall," I say, but she pulls her head away from my hand.

She says nothing and from the side, I catch a glimpse of a tear rolling down her cheek. I sigh and look straight ahead.

"I must say, I am highly disappointed in you." There is silence as the reechoing of these words leave a pang of guilt in the pit of her stomach.

She whispers, the tears rolling freely now, "I'm sorry, professor. I just wanted to help and wound up getting myself into a big lot of trouble and-"

"No, Ms. McGonagall, I am not disappointed in you for getting into a tiff," she gives me a quizzical look and seems ready to question me, but I continue. "however, I am disappointed in the way you reacted. You see, when you hang your head, you lose your sense of pride, who you are, and what you stand for. Always be proud, Minerva; proud of yourself and all that you have and can do." Silence surrounds us yet again as we make our way up the last few steps to the common room.

But these words soon seem to hit home and she dawns a new expression; one of understanding and strength. "You're absolutely right, professor. I wasn't sorted into Gryffindor to have self-pity. If I was, the hat would've put me in Hufflepuff." She looks at me and laughs, and I soon join her.

"Quite so, Ms. McGonagall...quite so." We arrive at our destination and I am glad to see that there are no more tears in her eyes.

"Thank you sir. But it is late, and I think I need to get to bed. I have an early start tomorrow," she says and turns to enter the common room.

"Ms. McGonagall," I say just before she enters the portrait.

"Yes?"

"I trust you will not forget your detention on Monday. Do not be late."

She smiles. "No professor, I will not forget," and with one last smile she turns to retire for the evening.

-------------

I turn down the blankets on my four-poster bed and remove my spectacles from my face. My outer robes are cast off and I heave a well-earned yawn.

As I climb into bed, I find myself too tired to even think about what may or may not come tomorrow and it isn't long before I give up entirely and whisper, "Nox." And with that, the lights go out and I am on my merry way to wonderland...but wait, "Lumos." The lights return for a short moment; just long enough for me to reach over to the tin on my bedside table. I pull out those infamous little candies that I am so addicted to and pop it into my mouth.

I can't sleep without my sweets, you know...

**AN: Well? I know it has been forever and a day since I have updated anything...I am terrible, and I won't even try to deny it. For me, personally, I love where this story is going, and it is just a joy for me to even write...I hope that you, too are enjoying it, and I always love hearing from you, the readers. **


	3. A Bit of Mayhem

**The Last and Lost Testaments of one Albus Dumbledore**

**A/N: I know it has been forever yet again. I just can't seem to keep going at a regular pace, although I am much enjoying this fic. Hopefully you all are as well. And yes, Arthur and Minerva are roughly the same age.**

_For Those of you who have made it thus far,_

_Yes, it would seem that things were coming into their own for me. I was deputy headmaster at one of the most prestigious wizarding schools known to the wizarding community, I had just turned down several job offers with the Ministry, and I was perfectly happy with the way things were going in my life._

_When it came to Minera, I thought things were completely under my control. I kept things at a professional level, as any professor would with a pupil. But it wasn't long before I realized I was a pawn under her thumb in the torturous game of chess that we have been forever playing._

_I was a fool to ever think that I had locked the door to my emotions._

FLASHBACK

"Good morning, all. I do believe this is your first class here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," I smile at the first year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, bright eyed and bushy tailed with excitement on their very first lesson. "with this holding true, let me explain some guidelines and rules..." I am interrupted by a chorus of groans from the pupils, and surprisingly, young Ms. McGonagall.

"Oh do come off it, will you please? All he wants to do is lay down some laws..." she receives quite a few death glares from her housemates and Hufflepuffs alike at the announcement.

I decide to forego the lesson plan for today to teach what I think will be a more valuable lesson to the students. "And just why, Ms. McGonagall do you believe it necessary to have rules to abide by?"

She is startled, I can tell, by my sudden line of questioning, but, as I would have expected, she continues on with that undeniable courage she possesses. "Well, professor, yes I agree that whilst it may be a bore to listen to the rules, if we didn't have any, there would by mayhem and chaos surrounding the entirety that is our school."

"Oy, that sounds like fun! What's to get your knickers in a knot for?" a particularly red-headed housemate of Minerva's interjects, and even though I am anxious to see what her reaction is, I have a set course of action for this class already formulating...

"Why yes, I do think that sounds like a splendid idea, Arthur. Alright class, have fun, and do whatever you wish." A roaring wave of cheers erupts throughout the classroom, and Minerva gives me a quizzical look that says, 'have you gone completely mad?' I sit myself down nonchalantly at my oak desk and fill out some paperwork for Headmaster Dippet that has been gathering dust for a fortnight now.

No more than a few moments pass before the students start to wreak havoc in my class. Minerva remains in her seat, dumbstruck at the events taking place.

Parchment flies about the room, books are laid askew, robes are thrown to the ground, and then...

"BULLOCKS!" A Hufflepuff student cries out in pain as he is hit with a minor, somewhat painful jinx. And in a gust of agony and anger, he returns the jinx to another student who had absolutely nothing to do with the situation.

The only other time I had ever seen a chain reaction like this was in my first year at the castle. We had all been dining in the great hall for supper when all of a sudden, I saw with my peripheral vision, a student's potatoes flying through the air. The target student was covered in the baked garlic starches, and in turn hurled his own chicken across the table.

It was, as I saw it, a beautiful ballet of food. I could almost hear the concerto playing in the background as the scene unfolded in front of me.

I could tell, however, as I was robbed of my reverie, that this was no ballet. My classroom had been turned into a manic house filled with savage, wild apes, and the dismissal was only a few minutes away...

I chuckle.

Minerva, on the other hand, only stares at me with a look of disdain on her face. She really has been brought up under the rule of an iron fist. And with that look never once leaving her face, she storms her way up to my desk, upset that her first class on her first day of her first year has gone completely awry.

"Can I help you, Ms. McGonagall?" Her scowl does nothing but amuse my ever serene facade.

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't understand just what it is you are trying to prove," she states, sincerity and seriousness surrounding her entire aura.

I set down my quill and fold my hands on my cluttered desk. "What was that, my dear?"

"I said I don't understand what you are getting at, professor," she repeats as a book flies past her right ear.

"That is what I suspected, but I wanted to be sure, I'm sorry...Did you say you...didn't understand?" Minerva gasps as a herd of gerbils for my sixth year class runs past her.

"Yes Professor! That is exactly what I said!" Her anger has turned to frustration.

I nod my head knowingly as I shuffle papers around on my desk, searching for a small tin. "Ms. McGonagall, maybe I can teach you something today after all. Sometimes it is not your duty to understand," she stares at me quizzically. "because not always is there a reason behind action."

"Then you are doing this solely for your amusement? Because I don't find it very humorous." She crosses her arms over her chest.

"Never you mind why I do what I do. I am an old man who is losing what little of my mind I have left. But if you do wish to learn something today, meet me back in my office this evening for a nice little game of chess." I finally find my tin and grab out a candy to pop into my mouth. As the dismissal bell rings and the students fly out, she opens her mouth to protest; clearly too upset and confused to join me for any type of learning right now. And so, to ensure a visit, I do what would bribe me to any occasion.

"Sherbert Lemon?"


End file.
